Knowledge is Power, and Power Corrupts
by Sunburned-Stickperson
Summary: Ezio had never thought about how dangerous Leonardo would be as a killer. That is, of course, until he ran across a creature who looked like Leonardo. Perhaps there was more to this man than he realized.


**From the LJ kinkmeme. :D part 2, page 9**

* * *

Ezio stepped back from the man in front of him. He frowned. This looked like Leonardo, sure, but it certainly wasn't acting like him.

The man straightened from his animalistic crouch and laughed. Ezio shuddered: this, whatever it was, was not human. In all his years as an assassin, he swore he had never seen something so terrifying as this.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Leonardo?" Ezio growled, getting ready to fight.

Those chilling blue eyes, which just a few hours ago had been filled with kindness and love, turned onto him-inspecting him, analyzing him, tearing him away to his basest nature. They glowed with a paralyzing light—Ezio tried to dismiss it as the moon's light.

"Ezio Auditore…"

He shuddered at that voice. It was cold and cruel: it lowered the temperature of the surrounding air, he was certain. There was a crazed, manic look in its eyes as it tilted its head back, yet never looked away from the assassin. It grinned a slow, twisted grin that could have made even Cesare run crying.

"I am Leonardo. Don't you see?"

There was brief pause before the persona melted away, and the man looked around, frightened.

"Oh… My God…"

The man was trembling. He looked at the dozen dead guards, which seemed untouched, then looked at Ezio.

"E—Ezio, did you massacre the guards like this?"

Ezio looked concerned: his Leonardo was back. He watched him closely as he pulled the artist into an unsure, but tight, hug.

"No, my friend, I did not."

Leonardo was trembling his grip.

"You did. Do you not remember?"

"You jest. Please, let's go home. I'll buy the parts for your bracer tomorrow. Please."

Ezio opened his mouth to speak but shut it quickly and scooped him up, carrying him across the rooftops to his studio. As the artist recovered and went about painting and teaching his assistant, Salai, Ezio sat by the fire and thought about what he had seen. There had been no denying it was Leonardo's body who had killed the guards—but where had been Leonardo?

Finally, Leonardo went to go check on the cadavers, leaving Salai and himself alone. He sat up and turned to look at Salai.

"You claim to know more about Leonardo than I."

"What do you want, assassin?" Salai huffed and looked from his lessons.

"Explain to me why I found Leonardo killing the twelve guards in the alleyway."

Salai stiffened and went as pale as a sheet. Ezio frowned and pulled down his hood before rubbing his bearded chin. The redhead opened his mouth like a gaping fish before he looked down at the lessons, writing furiously.

It was so quiet, Ezio almost didn't catch it: "Leonardo has a dark side."

"I can tell. Speak up and address me properly if you know anything."

Salai slowly stopped writing and looked at the entrance of the room before back down at his lessons and setting the quill down. He rose and walked softly over to the fire, sitting in front of it, careful to avoid eye contact. Ezio almost questioned the boy on his odd behavior but decided against it when Salai looked at him and began to speak.

"It was how I met him."

"Who, Leonardo?"

Salai nodded, staring to the fire. "I was a bastard child, left to fend for myself. When he found me being beaten by some guards, I didn't realize what had happened till I was staring into the eyes of the scariest man in Italy. Next thing I know, I'm being bathed and bandaged by the same man. When I asked, he laughed when I said he killed them."

Salai rubbed at the palm of his left hand. "He never spoke about it, but I saw it come out plenty of times when he was frightened or threatened or attacked or anything that could cause him harm. I even got to talk to it once.

"I don't know what it is, really. But it went away after living with Cesare for the longest time—till tonight, actually. It protects Leonardo from harm. It's cold; it's ruthless, and it has access to his brain. I've seen it kill plenty of times: it's pretty gruesome. With Leonardo's inventive mind and everything he knows about the human body, I doubt there's a more efficient killer out there. I don't know, but that's why I feel safe with Leonardo. I never have to worry about being attacked."

"When you spoke to it, what did it say?"

Salai brought his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "That it would look out for me, too, since I was so precious to him. It was when I was seventeen. Four years ago."

"About the time you stopped stealing from him."

Salai nodded as Leonardo walked into the room. He held a small tray with three cups.

"How about some mulled wine?" the artist offered.

Ezio turned at looked at the cheery man.

"Salai, have you finished the exercises?"

Salai shook his head and rose silently, sitting back down and working. Leonardo looked worried as he gave Ezio his cup and sat down.

"I wonder what's wrong with Salai?"

Ezio shrugged as he took a sip. "Perhaps the demon has finally learned to settle down."

Leonardo looked at him. "I hope so—oh! Ezio! You've lost your hair tie!"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I guess so—"

Leonardo rose, smiling. "Here, let me go get you one!"

He watched Leonardo flit off before he said, without looking back at Salai, "If I hired someone to attack him, would I be able to meet this creature?"

He heard Salai stop. There was silence for a few seconds. "You might… Someone from the thieves' guild, you mean?"

He hummed and took another sip. "No, one of my own."

"You're willing to put his life in danger?"

He relaxed into his chair as he took another sip. "It is our job. I will be off watching closely."

He could feel Salai's eyes boring into his back. "No aerial attacks, the body will be too vulnerable. Have him attack from the front, if possible. And stay close. If you appear, he might disappear, though. Leonardo feels safe in your presence."

"My best are better than you think—"

"His dark side is a demon. He was accused of heresy and all sorts of things. His sodomy trial was dropped for a reason."

Ezio straightened, turned, and looked at Salai, who was busy working. "And how would you know?"

"Even the walls whisper of stories passed."

Leonardo pattered back into the room with a small blue ribbon. "Here, Ezio. I'm afraid it was the only one I had, but you can use it."

Ezio looked at him, studying him closely.

Leonardo looked worried. Then, he glanced to Salai and back to the assassin. He seemed almost afraid. "Ezio? Is something the matter?"

Ezio jolted back as for a moment—a mere moment—he could see his eyes change, his smile twist, and his aura darken. From the corner of his eye, he caught Salai's shiver, and the boy hadn't even looked up. He reached for the ribbon and stood as the other personality disappeared.

"No, no, Leonardo." He wrapped an arm around Leonardo's shoulders. "It was merely a trick of the eye. I am tired."

Leonardo smiled warmly. "You are getting older, and such a clean kill must have required a lot of work. Your bed is made. Go rest."

Ezio smiled back at his life-long companion and walked off and up the stairs to his own little room. It wasn't until he had his back pressed against the door he allowed himself to shudder and get ready for bed.

He slept wearing both hidden blades and his gun by his head that night.

* * *

He walked downstairs to the kitchen the next morning, yawning, and before he knew what was happening, he found himself in a giant Leonardo hug.

"Good morning, Ezio! How did you sleep?"

Ezio smiled as he hugged the artist back, mumbling into the top of his head, "Well enough, thank you."

The artist laughed and pushed him over to the table for breakfast. "I will be going out and about today to shop, and Salai has volunteered to stay here and defend the door from being pounded into oblivion by persistent messengers, yes?"

Salai looked from his food to Leonardo. "Yes, maestro."

He cast a quick glance at Ezio, who rubbed his chin. Leonardo sat down across from him and looked the assassin in the eye, worried.

"Salai told me last night you are planning a foolhardy mission for your assassins?"

Ezio looked at Salai, who was distracting himself with eating. Leonardo reached over and took a callused hand in his.

"He would not tell me what, but Ezio, please do not put them in unnecessary danger."

Ezio rubbed his thumb comfortingly on the back of the artist's hand and chuckled after a few moments. "Leonardo, it is what we do. Our lives are filled with unnecessary danger."

Leonardo looked surprised then chuckled warmly. "Yes, I suppose so."

He smiled back at his friend. Breakfast was a simple affair of some bread and cheese with fresh fruit the artist had bought at the market yesterday evening while Salai was—most likely—lazing about at the studio. Ezio rested his arms on the table as they talked about their plans for the day, relaxing in the early morning sun. He watched Leonardo closely, smiling as the warm, bubbly personality came through like the sun through the windows.

It was so easy to relax, comfortably slouched on the bench, leaning on the table, his stomach full, and the room warm and bright. He was grateful to Leonardo for everything he had ever given him and keeping him going despite all the hideousness life had thrown his way. He couldn't believe that this man, this easily distracted, child-like genius could harbor such a dark and nasty side.

After several hours, he rose and stretched languidly. "Leonardo, I must be off. There are things I need to do for the Brotherhood."

Leonardo sighed balefully. "I suppose that I should get going as well. Do me a favor, Ezio?"

Ezio looked at the artist.

"Please, do not accept any more missions for yourself. Your body is growing old and wearing down. I would hate for you to come back with an incurable injury."

Ezio wanted to chuckle, but Leonardo's concerned look killed it in his throat. In the end, all he could do was nod. "All right, Leonardo. I will not."

He could only smile as Leonardo hugged him tightly, bouncing like a child. As the artist left, Ezio finished dressing and walked out of the studio. It wasn't until he was standing in the hall, gazing at all the other assassins laughing and talking with one another that the full gravity of what he was about to do hit him.

Silently, he stayed near the edges as he walked to the front and sat on a bench, watching them from under his hood. Which one would he choose to—he felt strong guilt blend into his morbid curiosity—attack Leonardo? His curiosity was gnawing away—the need to know. He damned the artist for instilling him an interest in knowing. He found himself rubbing at the beard again and chuckled. No wonder cats enjoyed having their chins scratched.

He shook his head as he continued to watch them, unnoticed by the other assassins. It was a suicide mission for one, but maybe two would be unfair. He frowned: he didn't know enough about this darker side. He would simply have to guess and hope he was right.

He frowned as he decided which assassins to send. He organized and reorganized them all into different categories—none of them helped. Eventually, he rose with a sigh and straightened, listening to his back pop loudly.

"If I don't give myself away, it seems my body will be more than happy to." He chuckled and walked out to gather the others—he was going to make it quite the team assignment.

* * *

Which was how he ended up here, on the roofs of the city's buildings, watching for Leonardo to duck into an alley. The guards had been dispatched, and his assassins were hiding, waiting for Leonardo to reveal himself.

Ezio cursed his armor for getting to hot under the evening sun as he adjusted himself again, waiting and watching as Leonardo flitted from stall to stall. There was nothing to do as he waited. Several times, he looked around and spotted several of the assassins standing up to stretch or watching from the edge of the roofs. He laughed: Leonardo was too distracted by everything else to notice assassins waiting on the rooftops.

And as the sun began its descent, Leonardo waved merrily to the final merchant, carrying a bolt of cloth in his arms and a basket of fruit on his arm. He watched closely as Leonardo started walking back toward the studio, eventually slipping into a back alley Ezio had shown him as a shortcut.

He brushed off the crawling feeling in his gut as he watched his two best, Loretta and Agosto, jump from the roofs to attack.

Ezio had to blink when they landed on top of him, and he crumpled like paper. The bigger of the two was sitting on his chest as he lined up for a punch. He almost stood up and called his assassins off when one threw the cloth to the side and sneered as he ripped the basket from his arm as the other landed a solid blow to his jaw.

And the reaction was incredible. One second, he was passive and frightened; the second, all the assassins were at the edge of the roofs, watching. Leonardo's face twisted into a snarl as his legs came up and locked under the assassin's chin, forcing him onto his back and his arms to his sides as Leonardo went with the motion, his arm all ready back to punch. Loretta tackled him, and he squeezed his legs together tighter, pinning the assassin's arms to his side. He saw Leonardo raise his hand and strike the woman's temples. She staggered back as the assassin under him threw him off. Leonardo was on his feet immediately, snarling as he brandished a knife.

Ezio blinked: when had Leonardo taken the knife? The assassin looked slightly stunned, but wasn't given much time to think as he blocked an attack from Leonardo. The clash of the metal blades rung loudly, and he watched the furious onslaught of attacks from his artist. Loretta had recovered from the blow slightly, the only thing between her and the engineer was Agosto, who was using both hands to block the attacks.

She shook her head to clear it as Leonardo's knife bounced off the armor, and he could see the cold look in his eyes as he recalculated his target choice. Leonardo switched hands with the blade, and the assassin looked confused as to why he was switching to his less dominate hand. The engineer went to punch the man, but as Agosto hurried to block the blow with both hands to keep steady, the artist's other hand shot forward and got him in the throat, a deep, ragged cut nearly severing his head. Ezio called the other assassins to step forward as one of his best assassins fell.

It was like watching a cloud fall as they fell upon the fray. Ezio jumped down behind the artist, blocking his exit, and reached to snag him, but Leonardo ducked and Ezio crumpled, clutching the back of his leg.

He was met by the most evil, chilling eyes he had ever seen as Leonardo smashed the hilt of the blade into his foot and sprinted away. He watched Leonardo duck down another alleyway, and he forced himself up before he got too far away, chasing after him.

As Leonardo led them closer and closer to the edge of the city, Ezio's breathing became more labored and pained. He didn't even know he had muscles in the back of his leg to cause such pain, but that was laughable compared to the pain in his foot. He saw a horse in the corner of his eye and spun quickly to pull the owner off and hop on the horse. He almost cried out in relief as the pressure on his foot suddenly became slightly more bearable.

What was he complaining about? Ezio scowled and winced in pain as he kicked the horse again. He saw Leonardo glance over his shoulder and frown at the horse. Ezio had been in worse conditions than this—he wasn't even bleeding.

"There's more to the body than blood to measure injury. There's bones and organs and muscles!"

He snarled as he remembered the artist's words.

"Here, allow me to teach you!"

He had refused the lesson. Perhaps his damage was worse than he ever thought it could be. The horse was quickly closing the gap between them, now unhindered by people as they flew through the countryside. When he was just about to jump onto the man, Leonardo stopped and turned ninety degrees to sprint to a tree.

Ezio cursed his luck as he jumped down and stumbled on his injured leg. Just as the artist had grabbed the lower branch to pull himself up, Ezio snagged his leg and pulled him down, causing the artist a hard blow to the back of his head, stunning him just long enough to allow the master assassin to pin him.

And when Leonardo shook the blow off, he thrashed more violently than horse forced on its side.

"Who are you?" Ezio growled as he struggled to keep the creature pinned. He leaned in closer to get a better look at the wild man.

Bad mistake: he cursed loudly and jerked back slightly as Leonardo's head lurched forward and bit—almost ripped—his nose off his face. He shook his head, trying to ignore all the pain he was in. He could feel the blood pouring from his nose, but he couldn't chance letting go.

He ground out, "Who are you? A demon?"

The thrashing stopped slightly as the creature beneath him laughed. He couldn't help but shiver at the sound. As it continued laughing, its thrashing came to a stop, and when he was staring back into its eyes, he could see the muscle tensing and relaxing beneath its neck as if it were getting ready to spring.

"I wondered how long it would take you before you devised a scheme to try and pin me. Just imagine the fun you'll have trying to explain to Leonardo how he got such a bruise on his jaw."

Ezio snarled, "Don't you dare leave me yet!"

And before he knew what he was doing, he heard his wrist blade whiz out and found him pressing it against the creature's neck. It gave him only an amused look.

"Regretting those lessons you refused several years ago yet?"

He narrowed his eyes.

"A little farther back, right under the jaw just before you reach the end. That will work much more efficiently for people you do not intend to kill."

Slowly, he moved the blade to the intended spot.

"Right there, correct."

"And who says I will not kill you? Who are you?"

"You will not kill me because I am Leonardo's guardian."

"Guardian? I would say more like demon."

He was rewarded with a sneer. "It's a pity you refused his lessons. Imagine how much deadlier your assassins would be."

"You killed my best man."

There was another cold laugh from the creature, the large drops of blood from Ezio's nose making it look even more sinister. "He was not prepared for someone who was ambidextrous. You should teach them better. You should have Leonardo teach them."

He didn't realize how close he had gotten to its face again. "You are not human. What are you?"

Another amused grin; Ezio was beginning to boil at being mocked, edged more by the adrenaline already in his veins.

"You realized I have seriously damaged your foot? The chase you had pursued has made it worse."

He snarled viciously. "Tell me what I ask, creature." He pressed the blade harder against the spot on its throat. He briefly saw its lips twitch in pain.

"I am an alternate personality, born during the sodomy trial."

He growled. "And why do you still exist?"

"Because there is no one to protect him."

He pressed the blade a little harder into the spot on its neck and he saw it wince. "You say I don't protect him?"

It spit in his face, and he snarled. "I am saying you are never around, always off chasing a new skirt or a new target." There was bitter laughter. "But I think you'll find it much harder to chase anything now."

Ezio opened his mouth to respond, but he paused.

"You are never around. He needs constant protection."

He stared into its eyes. "If I stayed since my foot is ruined, would you leave his body?"

It looked at Ezio as if he were stupider than a rock. "I cannot leave. Disappear, perhaps, but never leave. I am another personality. Just as he cannot get rid of your skirt-chasing personality, so he cannot get rid of a personality that he does not even know exists."

"I have long since given up chasing skirts. Why do you continue to bring this up?"

It only cackled, and he could feel it retreating to the back of Leonardo's mind. He shook body violently.

"I have not given you permission to leave! Stay and answer me!"

"E—Ezio!"

He froze when he saw Leonardo was back, looking frightened enough to piss in his clothes. The artist was staring at him, innocence and warmth back in his eyes, and Ezio snarled and got off, sitting by his side. He yanked down his hood and ran a hand through his hair, pulling out the tie.

"It has gotten away again."

"E—Ezio?" The voice was timid, frightened. With a frown, he looked over at Leonardo, who pulled back a little, looking surprised. "My friend, what has happened? You're nose is bleeding like a fountain! Who were you chasing and how did we…"

Ezio looked forward again, scowling as he saw one of his assassins running down the road toward them. He held his sleeve to his nose and forced it back into place. As she arrived, she stopped a fair distance away, hesitant to come closer as she gave the report.

"Agosto is dead, maestro. The severity of the wound caused his death shortly after inflicted. Loretta will recover, we hope. There is no injury except bruising, yet she is acting as if she has head trauma."

Leonardo was sitting up, looking hopelessly lost and confused. "What has happened?"

The assassin gave him an incredulous stare. Ezio waved dismissively.

"He does not remember. Cannot remember. Bring her to Leonardo's studio."

"Remember what? Ezio, what is going on here?"

He dismissed the messenger and struggled to get up. When Leonardo saw his limp as he tried to walk, he immediately rose and offered his help, which Ezio accepted gratefully.

"As we ride back, my friend, I will tell you."

He almost cried as he hit his foot on the side of the horse when he slung it over its back.

"Oh, dear, Ezio, what happened? That is a nasty injury to your foot as well as your nose!"

Leonardo mounted up behind him as the horse started heading back to the city at a slow walk.

"You did."

He then told Leonardo the entire happening as they rode back to the studio. It wasn't until he was sitting in his favorite chair in the studio and Leonardo had cut off his boot that he realized how bad the damage was. He watched as his foot quickly swelled to twice its regular size, sickly purple, blue and every shade in between. Holding a rag gently to his nose, he slouched in the chair as he watched the artist work.

"Oh, Ezio, and I did this?"

He looked at the artist and winced visibly at his expression.

"I'm so sorry, Ezio. Oh dear, this will take a while to heal."

The other few assassins murmured quietly behind him. Ezio sighed.

"Are you sure… Here. Do you—do you still trust me?"

Ezio offered a quick twitch of his lips. "Forever, my friend. Had it not been for my curiosity, none of this would have happened. It is my fault."

Leonardo gave him a worried look as he walked behind him and placed his hands on the assassin's shoulders. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in Leonardo's bed. He groaned in pain and looked at his foot over the bandages on his nose. It had been elevated, held up by some sort of rope attached to the ceiling. It was wrapped in a pillow, and he could see pieces of wood for a splint sticking out of the edges.

He felt a hand on his arm, and he looked to see several of the assassins sitting around the bed. Loretta was smiling at him.

"It's good to see you again, grand master."

Ezio blinked, then sighed and looked down. "I am sorry about Agosto—"

"It wasn't your fault. We were all warned ahead of time."

He looked at her, then to the other three near the bed.

"Death is a part of our job. It is who we are."

Ezio nodded once, slowly, and looked to the door as it creaked open, and Leonardo peeked in. The artist shooed them out quickly and sat by his side. Ezio looked at him as he took one of his hands. The silence was heavy with regret as he lay there. Leonardo looked absolutely crushed.

"Ezio, I am sorry I did this to you."

Ezio shook his head slowly. "No, my friend. I did this to myself. I knew the consequences could be disastrous."

"Then—"

"Because I wanted to know more about your other side, but you've seen how well that went."

"I am so sorry—"

He growled, and Leonardo looked shocked. "Leonardo, you are not to blame. This creature inside you is not you."

Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself lifting his hand to his lips, and carefully, ever so careful of his nose, he pressed the back of Leonardo's hand to his mouth. The artist's eyes grew wide in surprise.

"But the assassins will not attack you again. I am sorry we did not find out more after what we did."

Leonardo looked away and mumbled, "My studio is always open to your brothers or sisters if they are ever in need."

He lowered his hand back to the bed. "I know that, my friend. And I will forever be in your debt."

Ezio looked down at his foot again. "Thank you for patching me up, again."

Leonardo's head snapped to look at it. "I afraid it will take longer than anticipated to heal. I cut open your foot to look at it because of how bad it looked," he noticed Leonardo's ashamed flush, "and I ended up using several small needles to pin together a few bones. What on earth could that beast have hit you with?"

"A bone-hilted knife, after he struck me on the back of my leg. Are you going to leave the needles in the bone?"

"No," the response was quiet, "I will take them out when I am sure the bone has healed in place. I would feel terrible if you couldn't even walk anymore." Leonardo shook his head. "I am so—"

"Do not apologize, Leonardo. I was well aware of the dangers stepping into this."

Leonardo was silent, staring at their hands still clasped together. After a few minutes, the artist rose.

"I am going to make sure Loretta is okay before I send all of the assassins away. I hope you do not have any missions coming up?"

"None that my brothers cannot handle in my stead."

"And the Brotherhood itself?"

"It will go on. No doubt they will bring me what work I can do from a bed. But Leonardo, surely you are not planning on sleeping in the studio while I am bedridden?"

The artist smiled softly. "No, I will share a bed with Salai, as we have done before on travels and with Cesare."

Ezio nodded. "I am sorry for taking your bed, my friend."

The artist laughed quietly. "No, do not feel bad: your health is important to me."

He offered a small smile as Leonardo walked out. He sighed once the door swung shut: he was in for Hell these next couple of weeks. But, as the days began to drag by, he realized it might not be so bad. As his nose and foot slowly—painfully and slowly—healed, he began to be conscious of how much he enjoyed being bedridden.

His brothers and sisters still came and visited him, spending their free time by the bedside and keeping him up to date on the things happening among the others. They entertained him with mishaps of the newest recruits, stories of successful missions, and blunders from the Templars they encountered. A few, when they had time, would bring him paperwork, which, he admitted after he adjusted to the pain, made the time pass a little bit faster. Leonardo lent him a quill and ink to fill out the work.

Leonardo was probably why he enjoyed being bedridden so much: the artist would bring him almost every meal—more attentive to him than to himself. And when he did come in with food, he would stay and sit by the bed. Salai would help him move his most recent commission up to the room to work, or Ezio would watch him work in a notebook. Although they could squeeze a commission into the bedroom, he chuckled whenever Leonardo tried to build a scale for one of his inventions. The inventions needed an entire room to be built. Still, it didn't stop him from trying to build one in the room. He even insisted on dissecting the bodies he got in the room, and Ezio found himself unable to resist. The artist's face had lit gleefully, and the assassin found himself learning more than he ever thought possible about the human body. It was definitely time Leonardo at least let him take the notebooks to hideout for copying.

But, that wasn't his favorite part. His favorite part was when there was nothing more to do in the day, and Leonardo would come in and sit by his side. The artist's chatter would eventually trickle off into silence, and they found their hands laced together as they sat there, enjoying each other's company. Ezio would be laying back comfortably, and Leonardo would be leaning forward onto the bed as he sat in a chair. Several times, he found himself pressing the artist's hand to his lips, and every time he did, Leonardo would smile warmly. He didn't realize he was doing it till he felt the rough skin pressed against his mouth, but if Leonardo didn't mind, he wasn't going to stop himself.

He had honestly forgotten about the dark side, slipping into what must have been a normal life for most. When the pain had gone away almost completely, he realized with shock he wasn't looking forward to returning to the field. Still, he couldn't just fake the injury longer than necessary, and as much as he trusted Leonardo, he was still antsy about the idea of needles being stuck in his foot, holding together bones he had never bothered to acknowledge before.

He was glad, however, that he didn't have to watch the pins taken out. Leonardo had knocked him out using a sensitive spot on his body, and when he woke up, his foot was neatly bandaged, although it hurt terribly. Ezio frowned as he settled back into the pillows.

"It's only a few more weeks, Ezio, and then you can get back up."

He sighed at the artist, who was sitting at the edge of the bed. The assassin reached out and took Leonardo's hand, gently rubbing his thumb in circles on the back of it.

"I know, but I have already been in bed for almost four months."

The artist offered a small smile. "I'm truly sorry, Ezio, but if you want your foot to heal properly…"

Ezio pulled the hand to his lips and gently kissed it. "I know: I am simply whining."

Leonardo chuckled and pulled his hand away as he rose. "Now that I know you are okay, I'm going to bed."

Ezio snagged his hand again and gently tugged him back onto the bed. "Stay a bit longer, my friend?"

Leonardo laughed. "I would, and you know this, if I were not such a terrible cuddler in my sleep. I might injure your foot."

He sighed miserably and let go, but before Leonardo could stand, he caught the artist's chin in between his fingers. "Then let me at least take this from you before you go."

He leaned up and kissed Leonardo softly, a simple kiss on the lips, before he settled back into the bed with a small, smug smile. The artist's face was faintly red as he rose, holding a hand to his lips. "Ezio, what brought that on?"

He chuckled. "I wanted something warm to keep me company tonight."

He watched as Leonardo looked from the door to him, then said quietly, his face still slightly red, "I suppose it would not hurt to sleep here tonight in my own bed."

The corner of Ezio's lips curled upward. "I think I would like that. You are much warmer than the memory of a kiss."

Leonardo looked away. "Ah, my friend…"

"Go get into your bedclothes. This bed can easily hold two old men."

The artist laughed and looked at him, shaking his head before he did as he was told and crawled in beside Ezio. He smiled at how Leonardo was unashamed to curl against him, his eyes fluttering closed. As he ran a hand through blonde hair, he realized how much energy the small surgery must have taken. The artist was already asleep, out cold before he could even wish him good night.

* * *

The next morning, he awoke to the sound of the door being slammed open and shut, near causing him to jump out of his skin. Salai was standing at the end of the bed, holding a butcher knife, facing the closed door.

"Salai?"

"In here!" He heard voices in the hallway. "The man ran in here!"

Salai crouched in an offensive stance as he heard voices in the hallway.

"The assassin! Come on, men!"

When he tried to move, he heard Salai growl, "Don't get up, Ezio. You cannot walk."

There was a loud "thud" and a strangled scream from behind the door, and Ezio jumped. Salai seemed to relax slightly as he turned to Ezio with a small, uneasy smile.

"Well, it seems we're safe again."

"D—demon! Stay away from me!"

Ezio looked at the door at the frightened plea. Salai crawled up beside him on the bed, setting the knife on the floor. He grimaced when he heard a scream on the other side.

"What's happening?"

"A group of Templars realized you were here and barged in. Leonardo was already trying out another weapon for you."

He raised an eyebrow, but it didn't last long before he heard a low, sadistic laugh from the other side of the door. It was pushed open slowly, and he froze at the sight.

Leonardo was hunched over a ripped and mangled carcass, laughing evilly as he looked in the doorway to the two men on the bed. He was covered with blood and bits of flesh, a malicious gleam in his eyes. Ezio felt that same cold from his first encounter seep into his bones as the creature straightened slightly. It was then he noticed the hands: long, curved blades protruded from a bulky box strapped to the top of his hands. The creature walked to the doorway, leaning on the threshold with one of the clawed hands.

"Pleasure to see you again, assassin."

His eyes flickered uneasily to the weapons again.

"Don't worry, these are for you."

There was a sinister laugh that caused both men to shudder.

"There are still some bugs to be worked out."

Ezio took a chance and stared it in the eye. He was paralyzed by the incredible sensation of evil radiating from its eyes.

"I never thought I'd see you so helpless."

Another cruel laugh.

"Salai, go and fetch the bathwater. No need to upset Leonardo further."

Salai, after a few frozen seconds, got up and walked quickly out of the room, leaving him alone with the monster, which walked over to the end of the bed. His leg tensed instinctively, and he winced at the pain. The monster simply laughed and drug the tips of the four claws lightly along his foot. It took every ounce of strength in him not to tense the muscles in his foot.

"Inspired by the cat and your hidden blades, interesting, no? His mind is a wonderful thing."

Ezio simply shut his eyes, willing the claws away from his foot, which, to his surprise, did leave his foot. Unwilling to look at the creature in Leonardo's body, he kept his eyes shut.

"Never have I feared an enemy more than I have feared you," he said flatly, masking his fear.

The creature was silent for a moment, and Ezio actually cracked an eye open, thinking it was gone, before a slow grin spread across its lips. He shut his eye again. "Is that so?"

He nodded once and heard it move to stand by his head. He could feel it lean in close—he could feel its breath, heavy and filled with the stench of blood, tickle his cheek. His heart was pounding, and he realized just how vulnerable he was laying here, his heart so close to the creature's claws. It must have realized that, too, as he felt the claws ghost down his cheek to his chest. The tips of the claws, still warm with blood, tapped lightly right above his heart. Ezio's muscles were screaming for him to fight as his natural instinct, and he was trembling with restraint and fear.

"How fascinating, dear Ezio…"

He swallowed once before he forced his eyes to open and meet the gaze of the monster. He was not surprised to find it so close, millimeters away from his own face. Its blue eyes twinkled with the glee of a kill and a challenge. It grinned like a wolf.

"…because you are the only one to ever have met my gaze during a fight and live. Should I fix that right now?"

He refused to back down from his staring match with the demon as his hackles rose. He should reach out and snap its neck right now, cut it open with the claws on its hands, or at least, stop the blood-chilling sense of fear from getting worse. Its hungry grin eventually settled into something much more taunting and thoughtful as he tried to think of a way out of his situation. None of them had good endings—for him.

"Or, how about if we make a deal?"

Ezio watched it closely as it walked around to the end of the bed, standing near his foot. He willed himself not to flinch and barely succeeded. It tinkered with the blades on its hands and let them drop to the floor.

"Angels guard the assassins on their missions: to deal with the Devil would cause them to leave."

The creature laughed. "The devil? The devil! My likeness compared to Satan, the supreme being of dark! It is no wonder Leonardo thinks of you so fondly: your sense of humor is impeccable. Think about it, Ezio, what damage can come from hearing my proposition?"

He studied the monster as it placed a hand on either side of his foot, leaning on the bed. He licked his lips nervously before pursing them together. It ran a hand up the bandages and cackled wickedly.

"I wish you could feel the fear you give off! It is truly precious to see such a mighty assassin so vulnerable! Tell me, will you hear the deal or not?"

Ezio frowned. "Speak."

It gave a victorious grin. "Stay here and protect Leonardo for me."

"And what do you get in return?"

"Patience, assassin, and I will finish." It gave a taunting smirk. "Stay here and protect Leonardo for me, and I will leave the two of you alone."

He scowled. "What do you get from this deal?"

"Reprieve from years of killing."

"I could have sworn you enjoyed it."

It leaned forward, the tip of his toes touching its chest, and his hands fisted in anger at his helplessness. "I do, but sometimes, a break is necessary."

It gave an alluring grin: the type a well-experienced whore would have to get her victim into bed. It was silent for a few moments before he heard Salai call from the other room, "Your water is ready!"

The demon grinned maliciously and practically vanished from the room. In the doorway, it stopped and looked back at him.

"What have you got to lose?"

It cackled and went off to the bath. As few seconds after it disappeared, Salai came in and climbed on the bed.

"I'm sorry for leaving you with the creature, but it wouldn't have gone away otherwise." Ezio studied the curly-haired young man. "I hope it didn't injure you anymore."

He shook his head. "No, but I have never felt closer to death than right then."

Salai sat for a few seconds before he went to clean up the bodies. Ezio thought about what the demon had said. Perhaps he could watch over Leonardo, but they may need him as an assassin. He frowned again: what good would he be to the Brotherhood now, after laying in a bed for four—five—months. His muscles had softened, his legs were weak, and now that his body had caught up with itself, he could feel the effects of age. His joints had begun to pop and creak from so much wear—surely that noise alone would give him away. Ezio didn't even know the full extent of the damage to his foot yet. He was still flexible and a good assassin, but his own body was proving to be his most formidable enemy. His body had adjusted to the life of a normal person. He watched as Salai finished cleaning and climbed back on the bed. They sat in still, heavy silence until they heard Leonardo's voice.

"Oh, dear, what was I doing?"

And he couldn't help but chuckle. Salai let out a relieved laugh as Leonardo appeared in the doorway.

"Salai! What on earth are you doing in here? I thought I sent you to open the door while I continued working on the cat claws!"

Ezio gave him a flat look.

"I did, maestro, but it has all been taken care of—"

"They have all been taken care of by your monster."

Leonardo gave Ezio a shocked look, then looked upset. "Lord have mercy… And they are, presumably…"

"There is neither a man in Heaven nor a demon in Hell that could piece them back together."

The man paled, and Salai rose to help the artist to the bed. He sat down beside Ezio. "God the Father have mercy indeed."

Ezio found himself holding Leonardo's hand and bringing it up to kiss it. "I am sorry that I could not fight for you, and that blood was shed with your hands."

Leonardo made an odd sort of sound as Ezio kissed his hand. He looked at the artist.

"Is this making you uncomfortable?"

The artist seemed to shut down as he shook his head. He slouched over and covered his face with his free hand. Ezio pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly. Salai exited the room silently.

"It will be okay, Leonardo. Had yo—it not killed them, they would have killed me."

Leonardo's voice was so quiet he almost didn't hear it: "But they have families, Ezio. People who rely on them."

He frowned and pressed his lips to the top of the artist's head. "Yes, but—"

"You and I, we do not have families."

Ezio was shocked into quiet.

"I could die and be okay. Salai can make a living. They have children, Ezio, and others who rely on them for food. And I killed them. Their blood is on my hands. My uncle is dead, and my parents never showed interest in me. I was a bastard. I would rather it have been me who died than them." His voice cracked. "One of them may have had a new child on the way—have you ever seen a baby from the mother's womb? It is beautiful—magnificent—a reminder of how incredible God our father is. And I may have killed its father—a father that will love and care for the child, take an interest in it and raise it. What have I done, Ezio?"

And for once in his life, the assassin couldn't find the words to say. The silence seemed appropriate as he held the artist close. He rubbed Leonardo's back as his mother used to do when he was upset and pressed several light kisses to the top of his head. It was several minutes before he dared to speak.

"But it was not you who took their lives, Leonardo."

"My personality or not, it was still my hands that took their life prematurely. And now others will suffer because of what my hands did."

Ezio almost felt ashamed, sitting there, holding the one person he cherished more than anything else. He squeezed Leonardo tighter. He couldn't count the number of innocent guards he had killed—and how many families were now ruined because of it. The faceless masses of grunts lining up for their deaths at his blades suddenly seemed a little clearer, a little stronger, a little more prevalent. He closed his eyes.

"Truly, life is unfair."

Leonardo shook his head the best he could against Ezio's neck. "Life is cruel."

Ezio ran a hand through the artist's hair before he moved Leonardo look at him. He stared into the artist's eyes as he tucked his fingers under the artist's chin, careful not to get tangled in his beard.

"Life is unfair, not cruel. If it were cruel, I would have lost you."

As he pulled Leonardo in for a gentle kiss, he briefly remembered the demon's deal.

"I will protect you."


End file.
